Desperation
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Another old oneshot. Tim is determined to stop him. Tony is determined to stop Tim.


**A/N:** This oneshot was originally written in December 2007. As I recall, it was another skills challenge, although I can't remember now what skill it was for. *shrugs* Ah well. I suppose it doesn't matter at this point. Just another short, slightly bizarre, story with only a slight plot. A little bit of Crazy!Tim in this one.

**Disclaimer:** Me not own NCIS. Me not make money from stories. Fooey. :)

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**Desperation**  
by Enthusiastic Fish

"McGee, put down the gun," Tony said carefully. The standoff had been going on for about twenty minutes, ever since Tony had come into the lab and found Tim ready to shoot the man he saw in Abby's office.

"No, I can't," Tim said, tears running down his cheeks.

"Yes, you can, Tim. This isn't the way to do it."

"It's the only way," Tim argued. He started to squeeze the trigger. The man didn't move.

"Tim! Wait!"

The gunshot didn't come. Tim seemed to listen.

"Just put the gun down. We can get this guy without you killing him."

"No, everything is his fault. I have to stop him, Tony. I have to." Tim tightened his finger on the trigger once more.

"No, Tim!" Tony said quickly. "This is not the way to stop him. What has he done?"

Tim's eyes were wild as he looked at the man. "He killed the petty officer. He attacked Gibbs. He..." Tim trailed off, mesmerized by the eyes of his target.

It was eerily quiet in the lab. Tony noticed for the first time that the music wasn't playing, that Abby was nowhere in sight. She was supposed to be down here.

"Tim, where's Abby?"

"Gone, Tony. She's gone." Another tear slipped down Tim's cheek. "This is all his fault and we have to stop him now before he hurts anyone else!"

Tony looked at the man. He still hadn't moved. He made no move to defend himself. Then, he saw a sight that made his heart stop. A hand, ending in a wrist covered with a leather spiked bracelet lay limply on the floor. Abby. The rest of the her was hidden behind the table.

"We'll stop him, Tim. We _will_, but you have to trust me. Just put down the gun."

For a moment, the gun wavered from its target, and Tony actually thought that he might just be getting through, but then, Tim's sanity slipped and he focused on the man again. "No. _I_ have to stop him, Tony. Can't you see him? He's just standing there. He doesn't care. All he wants is to get is away with it. I can't let him. He's done too much. He's hurt too many people. If I don't punish him, nothing else will happen."

"Tim, look at me."

Tim didn't move. He just stared at the recipient of his hatred.

"McGee! Look at me! That's an order!" Tony shouted.

Tim's head whipped around, although the gun stayed where it was. The man looked at Tony, too, seeming a little surprised at the shouting.

"You are an NCIS agent, McGee! That means that you don't take the law into your own hands. You have to let the courts decide what has to be done. Remember?"

Tim focused on Tony and seemed to really hear him, his bloodshot eyes regained some of their sanity. "Yes. I remember."

"Remember when that computer lady died? You wanted to kill the murderer, right?"

"Yes."

"You didn't, right?"

"I didn't."

"Why?"

"It was wrong."

"Exactly. Exactly, McGee. It would have been wrong for you to kill him. It's the same situation now. You have to let us take care of him."

The gun started to drop. Tony reached out his hand for it, but too soon. Tim turned back to the man. "Did you see that, Tony? He was going to get away! You're being soft! He needs to be stopped..._now_. Not later. He's a killer." Tim looked with loathing at the glass, feeling the gun against his temple and hoping that he could stop the murderer he saw looking back at him.

"No, Tim...no, you aren't." Tony looked back and forth between Tim and his reflection and prayed that whatever drug in his system was diluted enough that Tim would listen to him. "You didn't kill anyone. You were drugged."

"I didn't. _He_ did!" Tim said, pointing at the glass with his free hand.

"No! That's just your reflection, Tim. If you pull that trigger, you _will_ be a murderer. Do you really want that?"

"It's the right thing..."

"It's not. You'd be killing an innocent man. You'd be killing yourself. Do you want to die?"

The gun started to shake. In a completely different voice, Tim said, "Tony, I can't stop it. Help."

"Tim, I'm going to keep you from killing the man, okay? You got that?"

The gun still shook, but Tim did not respond.

"I'm going to touch your arm, okay?"

Tim still didn't respond. Tony reached out carefully and put his hand on Tim's wrist, just below the butt of the gun he held to his head. He felt an increase of tension in Tim's arm, but no fight.

"That's it, Tim. I'm going to touch the gun now, okay?" He reached out with his other hand toward the trigger. Again, Tim didn't respond. He seemed to be waging a private war with the drug in his system, battling for control of himself.

"He's right there, Tony. He's right there. He's going to get away," Tim whispered.

"No, he's not. He's going to stay right here," Tony said softly. He slowly began to pull Tim's arm down and eased his finger off the trigger. "He's not going to run. He's not going to leave. He'll be right here, Tim."

The gun was pointing at the ceiling when Tim lost the battle.

"No! No, I won't let you help him, Tony!" He began to fight for the gun. Except for Tim's shouting, there was no sound in the lab. Tony didn't shout. He just focused on turning the gun away from Tim's body and toward the office, away from any human targets. "No! No!"

Tim managed to get his finger back around the trigger and pull it. The roar of the gunshot made Tony's heart stop until he registered the sound of shattering glass. He wrestled the gun out of Tim's hands and threw it away. Tim tried to leap after it, but not for nothing had Tony been a football player, he tackled Tim before he'd managed to take a single step.

"Stop him, Tony! Stop him! He's getting away! He did it! He did it!" Tim wailed as he struggled against Tony's grip.

"It's okay, Tim. I got you. You'll be okay. Calm down." He looked toward the entrance. "I have him, Gibbs!"

"No, no, no. He's getting away," Tim mumbled, his struggles were weaker and his shouts more incoherent.

"It's okay, Tim. You'll be okay. We got you," Tony repeated as paramedics burst into the lab, one set over to where Abby lay and one over to Tim and Tony.

"Please, please, stop...me..." Tim whispered, looking up at Tony through eyes that were already dimming.

"I will, Tim. You're okay, now. Just go to sleep," Tony said, looking at the EMTs for confirmation. They nodded. "That's right. Sleep. You're safe now. You're safe."

Tim's eyes finally closed and he went limp in Tony's arms. The paramedics put him on a stretcher and strapped him down. Then, Tony watched as they wheeled him away.

"Good work, DiNozzo," Gibbs said as he stared at the shatter window.

Tony just shook his head. "McGee wanted to listen. If not, I couldn't have done a darn thing."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The room swirled in and out of focus. Tim tried to hang onto the images he was fairly certain were real. Occasionally, he reached out for something stable as his bed spun in circles. There was always a hand there. He didn't know whose, but it was stable and stopped the spinning, allowing him to sink back into unconsciousness.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim opened his eyes. Everything stayed in place. He took a deep breath, tried to think, and was surprised when it worked. He looked around the room. It was a typical hospital room, except that he was strapped to the bed. That was a little disturbing. He pulled against the straps. _Why am I tied down? What did I do? What happened?_

"McGee?"

Tim tore his gaze away from the straps and focused on Tony. "Tony."

"Who were you expecting?"

Tim tried to think and hit a wall of fuzz. "I don't know. Was I expecting someone?"

Tony laughed. "Well, that wasn't the most coherent sentence you've ever said, but more coherent than in the last three days. Abby will be thrilled. She didn't like it when you kept saying she was dead."

"Three days?"

"Yeah. They drugged you pretty good. The doctors didn't dare do anything but let it get out of your system."

"Drugged?"

"Yes, McGee. You've been a raving lunatic for three days."

Tim blinked and tried to penetrate the fuzz. "I...I was going to..." he trailed off and paled as he remembered what he had almost done.

"You didn't, McGee," Tony said firmly and began to undo the straps holding Tim to the bed.

"Because of you."

"I only made sure that you shot the window."

Tim shook his head. "You...you _saved_ me, Tony. I thought I had...I almost...and I didn't know...I couldn't think..." He swallowed hard to keep himself from crying. The memories were returning, the memories of being trapped in his head, of feeling like the world was crashing down on him, of knowing that everything was his fault.

"Consider it payback, Probie."

Tim forced his mind off what had happened and looked at Tony again. He lifted his newly-freed hand. "Thanks."

Tony hesitated and then took it. Before he knew what was happening, Tim pulled him into a brief one-armed hug.

"Thanks, Tony."

Tony smiled and nodded. "Anytime, McGee."

FINIS!


End file.
